


maybe in another universe (we could be)

by anonqing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon Compliant, F/M, Implied Relationships, Mutual Pining, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:29:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29519502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonqing/pseuds/anonqing
Summary: "Do you believe we could be?""No""Why not?""Because Granger, this world is not meant for us"
Relationships: Astoria Greengrass/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 7
Kudos: 17





	maybe in another universe (we could be)

Hermione is content.

Not happy, because happy is when someone is cheerful and excited and looking forward to each day (and with him by her side). Hermione doesn’t feel happy anymore, she is much too busy for such feelings, with her Ministry job that involves old witches arguing over garden regulations and a husband with a neverending inferiority complex. But she is content. It had taken her 10 years of sleepless nights and drawn out battles against the old, traditional, gits in the Wizengamot, and now, she finally got to where she wanted. At least that’s what she tells herself.

She can settle, after all she is grateful for the cheerful mess of the Weasely family that leaves her both exasperated and comforted, because she is only human and humans strive to be with other humans, and where would she be with both her parents not knowing who she was (and him gone)? Pandering to her husband would always be a headache and a half but she figures that there is no other choice. After the war, Ron had needed her to be there for him, and if it meant a couple of sacrifices along the way she was able to bear it. After all, he was her best friend turned lover, and everyone around her expected them to get together and if Hermione wasn’t one who would always meet others expectations then who even was she? And so Hermione is content, not because she wants to be, but because if she weren’t then that would mean he was a worthless sacrifice.

But after the blazing day there will always be the lulling nights that follow, and after 10 years of being Harry Potter’s best friend’s wife she is tired. Amongst the cacophony that takes the form of her husband’s snores, whispers of another life filled with blond hair and stormy eyes surround her. In the corner of her eye, flashes of an arrogant smirk that made her feel sorts of things that she was not supposed to feel, take her back to when she was a naive schoolgirl and he was a forbidden experiment that was too tempting to not partake in. 

She loses herself in memories of a once handsome face marred with tear tracks and far too much responsibility for a 16 year old to bear buried into her shoulder, and secret late night visits that end when morning comes too soon. She laments the interesting conversations that made her feel like at least someone in this broken world gets her that will never happen again, because now, she is standing by the side of light and hope and he, in all his devastating glory, is stuck on the other. 

She shies away from Amortentia, because even though it is a trend now for couples to brew some during their anniversary and Ron pushes and pushes (until she is about to break), deep down she knows that she will only be taken back to Slughorn’s sixth year potions class, where she had the unfortunate (or maybe fortunate, if she was being honest with herself) position right next to that goddamned potion. And she is certain that once she gets reacquainted with the delicious combination of mints, apple, and a hint of wood she will lose all the restraint that she has been building in her heart. It has been 10 years, and Hermione wasn’t anything if not persistent to keep on going (although she just wants to give up for once).

And so, day by day passes, with the restless nights in which she loses herself in a world that might have been if everything was different (and right). 

* * *

Draco is surviving.

Not alive, because alive means to be more than this breathing, unfeeling, husk of a man that he is (because she is gone). Draco doesn’t feel alive anymore, because he is still trapped in the whispers of the past, in that astronomy tower listening to her ramble on and on and on about everything and anything. But he survives, because while she will never be his, he still has responsibilities. Once to his wife, now to his son, carrying on the Malfoy name that means absolute dog shite in this new Wizarding world. He doesn’t mind, because nothing matters at this point short of his son (that he vows to raise into a man that would make her proud).

And so, he continues to stay in this world that no longer matters (because she isn’t here with him), staying strong for his son, holding his head up high despite the glares that he gets when he needs to be outside. After all he is a Malfoy, and Malfoys aren’t anything if not for their dignity. He was still a trapped bird in a glided cage made of the rules and practices of pureblood society, who now more than ever clung to their backwards beliefs and practices. To satisfy the leering eyes of his mother and his cage, he married a nice, sensible, pureblood girl. While he did love Astoria as much as he could (for his heart already belonged to a certain bushy haired know-it-all), losing her didn’t hurt him as much as she had. 

But then the sun sets, and his mask follows. He sinks into the welcome embrace of the past, and he could almost feel her curling up against him, strands of her hair that she never quite got out of its bushy state. Memories of late night trips around Hogwarts, chasing after her laughing whirl around, trapping him in their siren song, he but an all too willing recipient. But just like how each night ends with the harsh reality of day, he knows that his time spent with her then would be limited. Because she is a bright light that he should not taint with his own darkness and shadow, and so he must push her away.

Whispers of late night conversations fill his mind. “Perhaps there is a parallel universe out there,” she had said once, “where you and I can meet in public and do normal couple things and everyone just accepts it.”  
“Don’t be ridiculous Granger, that would never happen.” He would snort, but as she pouts and huffs and he buries his face in her hair he secretly yearns for her words to be true. Because they cannot be together in this world, so are running on limited time, and both of them know. 

He doesn’t go outside. He tells himself it's because of the war, because he doesn’t like being looked at by wizarding folk who know nothing about him and the choices he had to make. He knows that he is lying though, and that the only reason he is a hermit that confines himself inside of the walls of his manor unless absolutely necessary is because he can’t stand seeing her with him (how can she be happy while he is drowning, dragged down by everything that happened in his miserable life). So he continues, in this miserable cycle with no way out, except back in time to that pocket of peace in which the world was alright.

**Author's Note:**

> a short midnight drabble that came on a whim and got an executive decision made by coffee hyped qing to run with
> 
> comments and kudos appreciated <3


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